Complications Part IV
by LuvWhatUDo
Summary: John and Kem make a decision that puts them directly in the middle of the Congolese Civil War. Will that decision cost one or both of them their lives?
1. Preface

**Author's Note:**

As promised, here is the latest installment and it only took a few days this time.

I apologize in advance to all non-Americans and non-Brits, but I decided to use the English system of measurement even though the Congo most likely uses the metric system. I wanted to understand the distances, weights, etc., and I am most comfortable with the English system.

One other important note is that Azel Mkese, who was introduced in Part I, finally makes his return.

That's all for now and I hope to publish the next segment next week.

Thanks for the reviews and I hope that you enjoy this one as much or more. Happy Holidays!


	2. Chapter 15: Respected and Feared

Chapter 15: Respected and Feared

_Saturday – Day 16 of the Rebel Advance_

John decided that it was difficult to discern the age of the man sitting across from him. When he had first been introduced to Kingugwa earlier that evening, he had thought that the man was older, maybe in his mid-40s or 50s. However, his estimation may have been influenced by the hard look in the man's eyes and the almost palatable sense of confidence that the man exuded. Now that John was sitting directly across from Kingugwa, and he had had more time to observe him closely, John was certain that the smuggler was probably closer to his own age and that he had simply led a hard life.

Kingugwa was of average height and weight, and his clothes were ordinary; nothing that would easily distinguish him from the tens of thousands of other men in Kisangani. Although he seemed to speak and understand fluent English, he spoke it with an African lilt indicating that he was either self taught or that he had learned it from missionaries in much the same manner as thousands of other Congolese.

In short, the man was unremarkable in all of his physical attributes, and John decided that his ability to blend in was probably very helpful in his line of work.

The social pleasantries and obligatory introductions of a first meeting had been covered quickly, and it was now time to start negotiating. James sat to John's left, while Kem sat on his right. Kem had insisted on coming; arguing, quite correctly, that she was more familiar with negotiation and barter tactics than John.

John was a bit nervous as the proceedings began, but he was also determined to remain calm and to give this smuggler his best poker face despite the fact that, as James had predicted, Kingugwa had been smiling the entire time. Not the warm type of smile that puts one at ease, but a smile so cold that it almost makes one shudder.

"So," Kingugwa said casually, "I hear that you are in need of some convoy trucks."

"We need five of them and one hundred gallons of fuel," John replied confidently.

"Such trucks are not so easy to come by," replied Kingugwa and he maintained the same casual tone as earlier. "Especially, in times like these."

"Are you saying that it's impossible?" John asked.

"No, not impossible Doctor. Just difficult…difficult and expensive."

"Terms," John stated unflinchingly. He understood this part of the barter game, and he knew that he had to retain control of the situation.

Kingugwa paused deliberately as if contemplating the cost. Then he said, "For five trucks, and one hundred gallons of fuel…$200,000 - American."

John's jaw tightened slightly at the number. "We're only renting," he replied calmly.

Kingugwa threw up his hands in a gesture of mock sympathy and said, "Even so, what you are asking is very, very difficult. The price is fair."

"175," John countered, but then Kem overrode him.

"50," she said firmly.

Kingugwa ignored her. "$200,000, Doctor. That is my best offer."

"Then we're done," Kem responded and she motioned for James and John to get up from the table. Both men exchanged puzzled looks, but they followed her directions because they knew that it was important to show solidarity during negotiations. Kingugwa didn't appear to be too astonished by their decision, and his smile remained in place. However, when John, James and Kem left the table, he called out to them.

"Wait," he said and he motioned for them to return. He knew a good thing when he saw it, and he was certain that he could still make a tidy profit from the American.

As the three friends returned to the table, Kingugwa stated his newest terms. "$100,000 American."

Just as John was about to open his mouth to voice a counteroffer, Kingugwa interrupted him.

"To comply with your request will require many, many maneuvers. $100,000 is the best offer that I can give you," he said sternly. And although he smiled at the end of his statement, it was clear that he could not be negotiated down any further.

John looked briefly and Kem and James, and both nodded their heads slightly in assent. John relaxed and sat down in the same chair that he had occupied earlier, with Kem and James following his lead by sitting in their old seats.

Once everyone was settled again, Kingugwa took a sip of his beer, and then continued to state his list of requirements. "I want half tomorrow and half on delivery."

"No," Kem refused sternly. She still hated the idea of having to deal with a smuggler, and she realized that the man was trying to take advantage of John's status as a novice bargainer. "You'll get ten percent tomorrow, half on delivery, and the remaining forty percent after we're done."

"Doctor?" he asked and he refused to even look in Kem's direction. "Do you always let your woman speak for you on matters of your money?"

"How do you know that it's _his_ money?" she replied.

John's poker face cracked and he smiled at Kem's retort.

For the first time that night, Kingugwa's smile faltered as he was taken back a bit by her remark. "Half now and half later is standard practice, even in the United States, I believe," he said defiantly.

"Perhaps," she replied coolly. "But when dealing with machines that can suffer from unseen mechanical problems, it is _best_ practice to retain some of the money until the job is complete and the vehicles have proved their worth."

Kingugwa contemplated her for a second as he thought about how he should respond.

"Her terms are my terms," John said firmly.

The smuggler's cool smile returned and he nodded his head. "Very well. $10,000 tomorrow. Followed by $50,000 when I deliver the trucks to you."

"And when exactly will that be?" John asked.

"Lucky for you, I did some research before our meeting and I found that five such vehicles are nearby," and for the first time tonight his smile seemed almost genuine. "They can be ready for you in three days."

Three days would be cutting it close, John thought to himself. That would put them two days behind schedule from when they were to move the camp by plane. However, he didn't really see any other option open to them.

The only good thing about the date was that it would make it easier for his lawyer in Chicago to make the necessary arrangements to transfer the funds. John knew before he had left the States that the banks in the Congo were frequently unstable, so he had opened up an account at a bank in Luxembourg that had ties to banks in Kisangani and in Kinshasa. He kept the bulk of his funds in the Luxembourg account and, when necessary, he would request them to wire amounts to him at the bank in Kisangani.

He currently had enough in that Kisangani account to cover the $10,000 that Kingugwa wanted by tomorrow. However, he would need Cal's assistance to get the remaining $90,000 transferred to Luxembourg and then to Kisangani by Tuesday. He figured that if he called early on Monday morning, it should be just enough time for an electronic transfer to be completed.

John looked at Kem and James to see what they thought about Kingugwa's proposed delivery date, and both of them nodded in assent. John then looked back at Kingugwa and nodded to indicate that he agreed as well.

"After you finish using the merchandise for your endeavors…"

"We're using it to move the refugee encampment," John offered and he hoped that the truth might appeal to the man's sense of altruism and might even persuade him to lower his price. $100,000 still seemed high for what was essentially a three day truck rental.

"The details of your affairs are no concern of mine, Doctor", Kingugwa replied indifferently. "Just be prepared to give me my remaining $40,000 once you are done."

John was disappointed, although not really surprised, that Kingugwa had not been swayed by the reason for their request. Instead of pressing the issue further, he nodded his head and extended his hand out to shake Kingugwa's as the final indication that both sides had accepted the terms of the deal. Kingugwa reciprocated John's handshake. However, when John tried to remove his hand, Kingugwa unexpectedly grasped it tighter and held on to it for a second.

"There's something more Doctor," he said. "No doubt you know of my reputation for being able to deliver what I promise."

John nodded in affirmation. "Yes, that's one of the reasons why we came to you."

Kingugwa's cool smile widened. "Then you also know that I have earned an equally impressive reputation for making people pay if they cross me and do not deliver what _they _promise."

The implication hidden in Kingugwa's words was not lost on John, and he pulled his hand roughly out of the smuggler's strong grip.

"You'll get your money," John said. "No doubt, your research has also led you to determine that I am a man of my word. Otherwise, I don't think that you would have come here tonight."

"Excellent," Kingugwa said, "then we are all agreed, and I will meet you here tomorrow night at the same time. Kingugwa started to rise from the table and added, "One more thing doctor. From now on, come only with one other _man_ to our meetings," and he looked directly at Kem as further indication that she would not be welcome in the future.

John raised his eyebrows slightly and began moving his jaw back and forth in the manner that he often did when he became annoyed, however he knew better than to object. He looked over at Kem and she shrugged indicating that, even though she thought of Kingugwa's request as typical misogynistic behavior, she would comply.

Kingugwa nodded but said nothing more, then he exited the building and he entered the raucous night air. It was still relatively early in the evening, and many people were out laughing and drinking. As he walked down the street, he effortlessly blended into the city's background.

By never letting his true name be known and by always speaking English, he had carefully crafted an air of mystique around his persona. He knew that one's name and accent were often clues into one's background, so Kingugwa guarded those things very carefully. He enjoyed being mysterious. He knew that a mysterious man was both respected and feared.

It was a forty minute walk back to his home from the club, and although he had many vehicles at his disposal, he preferred to walk after he concluded deals. Over the years, he had found that the mechanical, rhythmic motion of walking would clear his mind and make all sorts of possibilities visible in his head.

$100,000 U.S. dollars would result in him making a very good profit, and in ordinary times, he would have been quite content – ecstatic actually. However, he knew that these were no ordinary times.

As he reached the street's corner, he passed a soldier with an M-1 strapped casually around his shoulder. A few weeks ago, one would have seen a soldier posted only on the busy main streets. Now, it seemed like there was a soldier posted on every other street in the city.

_Just enough soldiers so that the city's citizens would feel that they were protected by their government,_ Kingugwa thought, _but not too many; that way the general populace would not become nervous as to the intensity of the coming conflict. _

As he waited to cross the street, he looked over at a newspaper that was lying abandoned on a café's table. He quickly read the headline of its lead story and skimmed through the contents of the article, none of which had anything to say about the increasing violence and the rebels.

_The man who's managing this war_, _and the information about it, is doing a good job of making sure that most of Kisangani stays unaware of the magnitude of what's happening and what's about to happen,_ Kingugwa thought appreciatively, and he left the paper where it was lying.

Kingugwa knew better than to believe the papers. His contacts and trading partners had funneled some very interesting information to him about the government's plans. And he knew that now might be a good time for him to realign his customer base; especially before the government decided to pursue a domestic house cleaning initiative that might put an end to smugglers like him.

In ordinary times, the doctor's business would have been safe with him. However, Kingugwa appreciated the fact that these were no ordinary times. As he crossed the street, he veered off to his left and in a direction that he hoped would secure his future.


	3. Chapter 16: Clever Men

Chapter 16: Clever Men

If he had not been so well informed, Azel would not have given the man standing in his doorway a second thought. At first glance, he looked like any other average Kisanganian male, but then Azel recognized him.

During Azel's brief time in Kisangani, he had made it one of his personal projects to find out who all of the major players were in the city. The Hyena's name had been mentioned frequently, and Azel had even observed him, at a distance, on several occasions. After all, a man like that could have his uses.

"You recognize me, Deputy Minister", Kingugwa said and it was not a question as much as a statement because he knew that the Minister had developed an interest in him.

"I have seen you before," Azel replied cautiously. "Although, I was under the impression that you did not make unsolicited house calls."

"Just as you know of me, Minister, so it is that I know of you," he replied and his cool smile was on full display. "And I believe that I may have something of interest to one such as yourself."

Azel regarded him silently for a moment. Clearly, the man's response was a request for an invitation to enter, but would it really be a discussion that could benefit Azel? He decided to find out. He opened the door and gestured for Kingugwa to enter his home. Azel requested for his maid to bring them tea, and then dismissed her for the night. A meeting with someone like Kingugwa was best done without the presence of prying ears and prying eyes.

As they sipped their tea in the comfortable living room, Azel waited for Kingugwa to make the first move, and he didn't have to wait long.

"Minister," Kingugwa began, "you have acquired quite an impressive reputation."

Azel raised his eyebrows slightly in response, but he decided to remain silent.

"The General," continued Kingugwa, "is grateful for your skills in managing the press and controlling the people's comfort with the developing events. I also have reason to believe that it was your suggestion that influenced to the General's decision to march the troops West of Kisangani instead of through it."

Azel was careful again not to display his emotions, however he found that he was terribly curious. He hadn't expected the smuggler to be so well-informed about the army's movements or about his assistance. It was clear that Kingugwa had important connections, so what did he want from him.

"And this is of interest to you how?" Azel asked calmly.

"Such decisions mean that you are a very clever man," answered Kingugwa simply. "And a very clever man is a man who can understand me and my needs."

"And what needs would those be?"

Kingugwa didn't say anything at first, instead he leaned in towards Azel and tried to arrange his demeanor and face in way that would make him seem reconciliatory.

"In the past," Kingugwa began reproachfully, "I have been something of a sinner. Those sinful ways led me to serve both Mai Mai and government alike. However, the government's massive forces and insurmountable plan against the rebels, have shown me the error of my ways." He paused and then said firmly, "Now, I want to serve the government only." Now that he had concluded his offer, he sat back, and looked at Azel to make the next move.

"And now you want someone who can convince the government and its personnel that you have become a loyalist," Azel said perceptively.

Kingugwa's smile widened; satisfied by Azel's response.

Azel had only been curious about the smuggler before, but now he _was_ impressed. Kingugwa had somehow discovered the government's plan against the rebels, and he was intuitive enough to understand that it was probably time for him to ally himself solely with the future power structure.

"And what will convince me that you have become a loyalist?" Azel asked in a slow, deliberate tone.

"I have information."

Azel considered that for a second and then asked, "Why not go to the General with this information?"

"Because the General is a military man, and he is interested only in military things. He is not so clever. But you," Kingugwa continued, "you can see the big picture. And you have used your considerable skills to endear yourself to civilian and military powers alike. This means that you are a man with the imagination to realize your ambitions, and…" Kingugwa paused for a second and leaned in again towards Azel before continuing, "the ambitions of those in your favor."

Now it was Azel's turn to smile. "And what information do you have that will stimulate my imagination?"

"There is an American doctor who is willing to spend large sums of cash for convoy trucks."

Azel and Kingugwa were silent as each man attempted to measure the ambition of the other.

"Is the doctor's name John Carter?" Azel asked.

The smuggler nodded.

"I have heard," Azel replied slowly, "that he wanted to move refugees."

"So, he says. But who says that his version has to be the official version," Kingugwa stated simply.

Both men began to smile. The meaning was clear. A little imagination was all that it would take for both men to benefit greatly from the American's efforts.

Azel extended his hand to Kingugwa to cement their deal.

"I'm glad to see that you have come to your senses and returned to the embrace of the government," Azel said warmly.

Kingugwa shook Azel's hand firmly, then they discussed the timeframe and steps that would permit them to use Carter's project to lay the groundwork for their mutual dreams of power.

_Monday - Day 18 of the Rebel Advance_

_It's funny how some days start out good and only get better_, Azel mused to himself. It was early evening, and he was reviewing the events of the last two days as he enjoyed a sip of the scotch that he had purchased during his last visit to the U.K.

As expected, John Carter had met with Kingugwa yesterday and the doctor had delivered the promised sum. Azel wasn't quite certain of the amount that was being paid, Kingugwa had claimed that he was getting $5000, but Azel had a feeling that the sum was a bit larger than that.

In any case, he wasn't too concerned about being cheated out of that portion, because Azel knew that Carter would be bringing $50,000 with him to tomorrow's rendezvous to collect the vehicles, and Azel had already planned to claim the lion's share of that amount for himself.

He poured himself another fifth of whiskey as he reviewed the details of his trap. Yesterday, he had spent hours weighing the pros and cons of who would be best to assist them in this endeavor, and in the end he was certain that he had made the right choice.

He knew that he couldn't tell anyone in a powerful position in the Ministry or the Military offices, because he couldn't take the chance that they would betray him and claim the credit for themselves. So the next obvious choice was to find someone with authority who was not too bright and who could be easily manipulated.

Monday morning he had had his secretary, Helene, reschedule his afternoon appointments, and at 3:00pm he had left his office and went to a location that he was certain would help him put his plan into place.

When he entered the office of the Chief of Police of Kisangani, the Chief had given him a hearty handshake, and then spent the next five minutes bragging about his unimpressive educational background and other equally unimpressive past accomplishments.

From that moment on, Azel was certain that he had found the right man. The Chief was always making clumsy attempts to impress and ingratiate himself with the most powerful members of the Ministry staff, and Azel knew that this was an indication that although the man had ambition, he lacked the skills necessary to change that ambition into attainable goals. Such naïveté and self-importance would go a long way in assisting Azel's plan without costing him or Kingugwa too much of their profit.

All Azel had to do was to orchestrate the situation and bend the facts a little.

"So," the Chief began, "what brings a Deputy Minister to my humble office?"

"Sad to say Chief," Azel said as he shook his head wearily, "but this is not a purely social visit."

"Oh?"

"No doubt," explained Azel, "you have heard that the government has been having some trouble with the rebels in the South."

"Yes," the Chief answered nonchalantly. He had heard the rumors and he had even heard some of the refugees' tales. However, refugee tales were always grim so he hadn't attached much significance to their stories.

"But the newspapers," objected the Chief.

"The government is assured of victory," Azel added confidently. He knew very well what his own propaganda machine had been printing on the government's behalf, and he didn't what to jeopardize that sense of triumph in the Chief's mind.

"However," Azel continued, "it is something of a surprise for the rebels to have become so active so recently. In fact, we at the Ministry are quite concerned about," Azel paused to add a more dramatic effect to his next words, "how they are being funded. After all, could they have become so active lately if they were not receiving funding from somewhere?"

"No…no, I suppose not," the Chief responded a bit nervously. He was beginning to wonder if the Minister had come there to implicate him or some of his men in something.

Azel noticed the Chief's nervousness and addressed it in his next remark. "Now, we at the government know that the region is poor and that there are many, many loyalists here," Azel said reassuringly, and he gazed directly into the Chief's eyes to indicate that he was considered a loyalist. "Therefore, the funding must be coming from _outside_ sources."

"Foreigners?" the Chief asked and he could not keep the sound of relief out of his voice. Ugandan? Ruwandan?"

"Maybe not so near as that," Azel responded. He leaned forward to the Chief and lowered his voice to a conspiratorial level. "I have information that an American doctor is planning to spend $50,000 for five convoy trucks that could be used to transport troops."

Azel leaned back in his seat, and the Chief smiled because he now understood the reason for Azel's visit. The Deputy Minister needed his help.

"I had heard," the Chief said slowly, "that the doctor wants to transport the people in the refugee camp to a different location."

"Perhaps," Azel responded casually. "But _$50,000_?" he emphasized. "$50,000 dollars is a lot of money even for an American. As we all know, the CIA does not have much use for our government, and it has the cash to change things."

"And what proof do you have that the doctor is working for the CIA?"

"I do not have any proof at the moment," answered Azel. "However, with your help, I will have all the proof that is needed."

"And what help could I possibly provide?" the Chief asked.

Azel's smile grew wider. "The doctor will make the exchange tomorrow. You and a few of your men could be waiting for him, and could capture the transaction on tape." Azel produced a small digital video recorder from the inside pocket of his jacket. He placed it on the Chief's desk, and pushed it across to him. "Of course, I will be there to oversee the proceedings. And once the transaction has been filmed, you can arrest the doctor for engaging in illegal activities."

"And what incentive do I have to involve myself and my men in these proceedings?" asked the Chief expectantly.

Azel weighed his options. He knew that he could bribe the man with some of the $50,000, but he had planned to keep a large portion of that sum for himself. Instead, he hoped that a different type of bribe, a bribe that addressed the Chief's appetite for respect, would suffice.

"The man who captures a traitor and exposes a CIA plot," Azel began, "is a man who will be much rewarded by top government forces in the capital. And those who assist such a man will receive similar awards and honors."

The Chief rocked back in forth in his chair for a moment as he considered the possibilities. A promotion to a Ministry position, maybe even a move to Kinshasa to enjoy its many luxuries and relative peace, all of these were things that entered the Chief's mind. However, just as he was starting to agree with Azel's plan , a concern entered his mind.

"People know that the doctor is looking to transport the refugees. These people could become witnesses against you. They could be a problem," the Chief countered.

"Impoverished people," Azel responded reasonably. "Refugees. People who can be easily controlled by the right forces. People who can be made to disappear in suitably, unquestionable ways."

"And what if the CIA denies any knowledge of the doctor?" the Chief asked.

"The CIA may very well disavow him. However, once we have the doctor on tape, he will be ours, and his story will be ours to control. The exchange of $50,000 for transport trucks large enough to move dozens of troops is not something that can be easily explained away; especially considering the doctor's attachments."

The Chief looked dully at Azel and Azel knew that he would have to explain it in detail in order for the man to understand.

"The doctor is rumored to have a fiancée," Azel continued. "A Congolese woman whose father was killed a few years ago. The circumstances of his death have always been a bit unclear, and he could have been killed by either Government or Mai Mai forces.

Azel sighed, "It is possible that this woman blames the government for her father's death and is cooperating with the rebels. Perhaps, the good doctor is simply using his money to help his lover. One has heard of such things. However, whether he is doing it for the CIA or for his woman will be irrelevant because we will have him on tape, and his activities will appear very, very suspicious."

The Chief nodded appreciatively. The Minister's plan seemed sound, but he would need insurance to protect him and his men against potentially dangerous repercussions.

"I'll assist you in arresting and interrogating the doctor," the Chief stated, "but only on the condition that we capture him making the exchange on tape. Arresting an American, whether he is a CIA operative or not, is a risky thing. Far too risky, unless there is substantial proof involved," the Chief added sternly.

"Agreed, "replied Azel and he started to rise from his chair. "Come with your men tomorrow morning at 9:30am to my office, and I will take us to the location where the American will make the exchange," Azel said and then he left the Chief's office, pleased by the outcome of his visit.

The Chief didn't know it yet, but once the doctor was in their custody, Azel was planning to call Kem with news of the American's situation. He was certain that he could ply her with terms that would convince her that she could help her lover if she came to him. Once there, he knew that her presence and the threat of violence to her would _assist_ the American with the answers that he should provide during his taped interrogation. Besides, his threats of violence towards Kem didn't have to be mere threats, and she could be easily disposed of after they were done.

The chimes on Azel's mahogany and brass grandfather clock began to ring in the hour and their sound jolted Azel's mind back to the present. It was 7:00pm.

He took another sip of his whiskey and smiled. By this time tomorrow night, Kem would be doing all that she could to secure the doctor's release, not knowing that her actions would have no affect on the outcome, and Azel would be taking great pleasure in making sure that the doctor was a broken man begging for death.


	4. Chapter 17: Some Things Are Not Meant T

Chapter 17: Some Things Are Not Meant To Be

_Tuesday – Day 19 of the Rebel Advance_

Kem was curled up on John's chest after their morning's activities. The sweat was beginning to dry on their skin and their breathing was slowly returning to normal. John leaned down instinctively kissed the top of her head, then he sat up slightly in order to glance at the clock on the other side of the bed.

"It's 8:00am," he murmured as he relaxed back down on the bed.

"Aw…don't mention the time," she replied groggily. She wished that the morning could last this way forever. He pulled her closer to him and she knew that he felt the same way, even if it was unrealistic.

"I have to meet Kingugwa at 11:00am," John said in the same groggy voice.

He felt her tense at the mention of the smuggler's name. "It's going to be okay, you know," he said reassuringly.

"I know," she sighed reluctantly. She wished that she had been able to talk John out of doing this a few days ago, but now it was much too late to turn back.

"And Abe will be going with me," he added. "We decided to meet at Karibu's at 9:30."

"That's a bit early," she mused.

"Ummm," he sighed, "yeah, but I don't want any surprises."

Even though James had originally wanted to be the one to go with John, some last minute complications resulted in his having work to do at his club so that he could take off tomorrow to help them transport the camp's citizens.

Since Abe was familiar with the location named by Kingugwa, someplace in the city's center, he was a good substitute to accompany John to this morning's rendezvous. Once the vehicles had been inspected and the deal was complete, they would return and get the rest of the team, who would then drive the trucks to the clinic to wait for tomorrow's move.

All in all, John thought that it was a pretty solid plan and he didn't anticipate too many hassles. He just wished that he could get Kem to accept that.

He stroked the line of her jaw and gently tilted her chin up so that he could look into her eyes. As always, he immediately became lost in the width and depth of their chocolate color that was tinged with a hint of green inherited from her mother. "Don't worry," he said earnestly, "nothing will happen to me."

She managed a small smile to try to make him happy, before she returned her head to his chest. "I just wish that this was all over with," she said softly.

"Soon, very soon," he murmured against her ear, and they lingered in bed for another half hour, before rising to start the day's activities.

John decided that it would be best if he wore his loose fitting tan linen shirt and dark brown khakis that way the dust from the day's activities wouldn't appear so prominently on his clothing.

He walked to a table near the bed that had his keys and wallet on it, and a black faux leather shoulder bag lying on one side of it. He picked up the keys and wallet and put them in his right pocket, then he leaned down and unzipped the bag for one last quick check.

The bag contained fifty rolls of hundred dollar bills bundled in sets of ten. John zipped the bag back up again, picked it up, and placed it diagonally around his body so that its strap rested on one shoulder, while the bag itself rested on the hip of the opposite shoulder thereby making it more difficult to steal.

John took one last look around. Once he was satisfied that he had everything that he needed, he gave Kem a quick kiss and walked to the door. As he turned the knob and started to walk out, Kem called out anxiously to him.

"You're not taking your cell phone?" Kem asked worriedly. She had just noticed that it was lying on the other bed table next to the clock.

"Ah…no," he replied hastily. "Kingugwa requested that no one bring any cell phones to the meeting. I think maybe he's worried about tracking signals or some such thing." He had meant to tell her about the request but it had genuinely slipped his mind.

"Do you think that's wise?" she asked.

"Well, Abe and James didn't seem to think that it was too odd. Besides, it's not as if a cell phone is going to be of that much use in this type of situation," he said and he accompanied his statement with a boyish shrug of his shoulders. "After all, who are we going to call if a deal with a smuggler falls through? The police?"

"I guess that it's okay," Kem said and then she bit her lip. She wasn't mollified by John's answer or by his nonchalant attitude to the entire meeting, but if Abe and James weren't worried then she figured that she was probably just overreacting.

She let out the breath that she felt like she had been holding since John had mentioned the smuggler's name this morning, and she walked over to where John was standing so that she could give him one last kiss.

"I'll meet you down at Karibu around 2?" she asked.

"Yeah…I should be done by then."

"Okay, and good luck," she replied and she gave him one of her bright smiles.

She was still smiling as she watched him bound enthusiastically down the stairs and towards his meeting with Abe. However, when she closed the door, she couldn't shake the feeling that something was not quite right.

Helene had been at work for a full hour before the Police Chief arrived with four uniformed officers in tow. At first, she was startled by their presence because Minister Mkese did not usually receive visits from local officials. Plus, a visit from the police usually meant bad news.

When she knocked on the door to inform Azel about his visitors, her hand had actually been trembling. However, Azel didn't seem to be surprised in the least by their visit. In fact, he had seemed quite enthusiastic and receptive.

That had puzzled Helene for a second, especially since the meeting was not officially on Azel's calendar. However, as the morning went by, she shrugged off her shock and dove back into her work. If it was anything that she should know about, she was certain that Azel would tell her tonight over dinner.

Around 10:00am, the Minister's door opened and the four junior officers filed out into the anteroom. It appeared that they were waiting on the Police Chief to join them, but he was taking his time, so the men started to converse amongst themselves.

There was laughing and joking, and at first Helene did not pay any attention to them. She thought that she heard the words "today" and "trucks" being used, but that didn't mean much to her. However, when she heard the phrase, "American doctor", her blood turned cold.

Unfortunately, she was too far away and the men were speaking too softly in parts of the conversation for her to make out the context of what they were discussing, but there were not too many U.S. doctors in the city, and even fewer whose name would be connected with trucks. She felt like they must have been discussing John Carter.

Although, her mind was racing with thoughts about deciding what she should do with this information, she continued the appearance of doing her work in an attempt not to arouse suspicion.

A few minutes later, the Police Chief emerged from Azel's office with Azel at his side.

"Helene," Azel called out unexpectedly as the Chief and his men exited the office. "I'm going out, and I'll be back after lunch."

The news caught Helene off guard because again his absence had not been on his calendar, but she smiled in response. She didn't know what he was up to but she surmised that it had something to do with the Police Chief and Doctor Carter.

Helene searched her conscience for what she should do. She didn't know the doctor personally, and she certainly didn't care for his girlfriend, or was it fiancée now as the rumors implied. After all, Kem had been a serious rival for Azel's affections and it didn't seem right to be friendly with one's rivals. However, she loved her family and if she didn't do something, then her aunt's safety and her aunt's family's safety might be jeopardized.

Helen waited ten minutes and then jumped up from her desk. She was certain that she had waited long enough to ensure that Azel wouldn't return unexpectedly to the office, and she didn't dare wait any longer.

She headed down the stairs to the Ministry of Health office, and then she was off to a café across the street that she knew had a pay phone. She wished that her salary permitted her to afford a luxury like a cell phone, but such wasn't her luck. She dialed the number on the strip of paper that the health minister's secretary, Mary, had given her. She didn't know if this was going to work or if the woman would be there, but it was the only thing that she could think of at the moment.

The number began to ring.

"Hello?"

It was definitely Kem's voice. Helene recognized it instantly.

Hello?" Kem asked again.

"Kem Likasu," Helene stated curtly.

"Yes?"

"This is Helene Umdojbwa from the Deputy Minister of Communication's office."

"Oh…hello," Kem replied and Helene could hear that she was as unenthusiastic about Helene's call as Helene was to make it.

"Listen closely to me," Helene said. "I know that you are trying to move the refugee camp starting tomorrow. Know this…your Doctor Carter is in danger."

"What do you mean?" Kem asked carefully. She didn't know Helene well, but she knew her well enough to know that the woman was jealous of Azel's intentions towards her and that this could be an infantile prank on her part to get back at Kem.

"Has he gone to pick up the trucks yet?" Helene asked.

Kem's heart started beating so hard that she was certain that Helene could hear it even over the phone. This didn't feel like a joke.

"Yes."

"I think that the Chief of Police will be waiting for him," Helene said quickly and just as she was about to hang up the receiver she heard Kem's voice.

"Wait!" Kem yelled. She had to verify that Helene was not just trying to be cruel. "Why are you telling me all this?" Kem asked.

"My mother's sister and her family live in the refugee camp. My husband and I have no room in our house for them because we are already twelve under one roof, and besides, my husband has no use for my family. I do it for her and them," Helene said quickly and then she promptly hung up the phone.

Kem regarded the receiver in her hand for a second, and then jolted into action. She looked for the number to Karibu and quickly dialed it. The phone rang repeatedly, but either no one was around to answer it or James was in the back doing some work that didn't allow him to answer it promptly.

Kem slammed the phone down, and quickly slid into her tennis shoes. This morning, she had decided to wear her khakis because she thought that they would be most appropriate for today's activities, and as she considered what she had to do next she was grateful for that decision.

She pulled her hair into a quick pony tail, laced up her shoes tightly, and headed for the door. However, just as she was about to turn the doorknob she remembered an important item – her father's gun.

She had placed it back in the trunk after returning from her trip a few days ago. She rushed over to the trunk and threw the fabric covering it carelessly to the ground. When she opened the trunk's lid, she found the gun and its clip where she had left them. She shoved the clip roughly into the gun, and thrust the gun deep into her left pocket.

Once again, she headed for the door, and this time she slammed it behind her. She rushed down the stairs and started running as fast as she could down the street. It was crowded, and Kem bumped repeatedly into the other pedestrians as she made her way towards the club. She stepped on toes and heels, and even hit one woman hard enough to make her drop her purse. Kem was sorry, but she didn't dare stop to help. Nothing mattered to her except getting to John before it was too late.

The club was only a brisk fifteen minute walk from their apartment, and Kem running at full speed had covered the distance in just under eight minutes. She glanced at her watch and saw that it was almost 10:30am.

"John!" Kem screamed as she frantically searched the club but there was no answer. The club appeared to be empty.

_Oh God, this can't be happening_, she thought and she had to fight to keep her fear and concern for his safety from overwhelming her.

"JOHN!" she screamed again.

"Kem?" James called out in surprise. Kem was relieved to hear his voice, and as she turned to look at him she saw that he must have been in the back office or outside, because he was carrying two large boxes in his arms.

"Have you seen John?" she asked breathlessly.

"Yes. He was here but he and Abe left about forty minutes ago," he replied matter-of-factly. "The traffic heading towards the city center is always bad at this time of day, and since they didn't want to be late they thought that they should leave out fairly early."

Kem struggled to keep her emotions from overwhelming her. _It can't be too late_, she thought, _it can't be._

James noticed that she was troubled and he hurried over to her. "What is it?" he asked.

"It's a trap," she blurted out.

"What?"

"A trap," she repeated emphatically.

"It can't be," James said and he was genuinely astonished by Kem's proclamation.

"I'm certain of it," she said and James saw that she was absolutely believed what she was saying. "I need to get there before he meets Kingugwa at 11:00."

Kem knew where the warehouse that Kingugwa had named was located, she only needed transportation to get there swiftly. "Do you have a truck that I can use?" she asked impatiently.

James shook his head. "Kem, you cannot make it by car. It's _10:35,_" he stressed. "You'd be lucky to make it in thirty minutes. You know that."

"Well, I have to do something," she cried and she pushed him away from her.

She ran from the club and jumped onto the sidewalk outside its open air patio. Tears and panic were again threatening to overwhelm her. _I will not cry_, she told herself, _and I will not panic._ She immediately wiped the tears from her eyes, and looked around for something that could help her. About a minute later, she found it.

As James had said, the street traffic was awful. Cars, buses, minivans, and even a few mules and donkeys all vied one with another for space on the city's main road. To make matters worse, a police officer was standing in the intersection directing traffic and his machinations had everything progressing at a crawl.

Kem started running in the direction of the officer, and stopped about five hundred feet before she reached him. Sitting in front of her, waiting for his turn to go amidst an assortment of vehicles and animals, was a lone dusty motorbike and its driver.

Kem walked up to the man, and stood to his side. When he turned his head to look at her, she smiled, and the man smiled back.

When the man had first saw Kem smiling at him, he had thought that it had been his lucky day. A pretty girl like that…and then she came even closer to him, but as soon as he had felt the gun pointed at his kidney, he knew that fate had screwed him once again.

Keeping the gun pointing into the man's side, she angled her body to keep the gun hidden from nearby drivers. She deftly slid onto the back of the bike and moved the gun from his side to his back – never letting its barrel lose contact with his body in the process. She wrapped her free arm around the man's waist, and pulled herself closer to him so that she could whisper in his ear.

"I need you to take me to the city center as quickly as this bike can move," she stated in French because she knew that she couldn't be certain if the man could understand English.

"Once we get past this officer," she directed sternly, "you're going to use your bike to get between these cars and go faster than they can. If you do this, then you'll have nothing to worry about."

The man started to protest. However, before he could start yelling and maybe even get the officer to notice his predicament, he heard the click of a gun being cocked, and he immediately calmed down. In the end, he figured that it was best to do as this strange woman asked.

About two minutes later, the officer gave the signal for traffic to proceed in the direction of the city center.

The bike's driver stepped on the gas and began following the cars. Once they were out of the officer's sight, Kem leaned forward and pressed the gun harder into the man's back.

"Go between the cars," she ordered tersely and the driver quickly complied with her request.

Whenever the traffic stopped, the rider searched out pockets and holes that were too small for cars, but that were just large enough to permit his bike to slip through. And when the traffic wasn't stopped, he daringly maneuvered his way around any slower moving vehicles and entities so that his speed never dropped below forty miles an hour on the crowded road. Fifteen minutes, and several honks and expletives later, they had reached the city center.

Kem immediately looked around for the warehouse, then she ordered the driver to stop.

"Thank you," she whispered into his ear, "you've saved my life."

She kissed his cheek lightly, dismounted, thrust the gun back into her left pocket, and ran towards the sidewalk.

The motorbike's driver stared after her for a second as he pondered whether he should report her. However, he hadn't been harmed and he decided that it was best if no one knew that he had been hijacked by a woman weighing around ninety pounds. His ego might never recover.

The warehouse and several other office buildings sat on one side of the busy street directly opposite an array of vendors and cafes that were thronged with what appeared to be several hundred people making their way through town.

Kem looked at her watch and saw that it was about eight minutes before the hour. She stared hard at the warehouse's door as she tried to decide if it had been opened recently indicating that John was already inside, or if it had not been opened at all indicating that John had yet to enter.

She quickly considered her options. If she went to the warehouse now, and John wasn't there, then Kingugwa might trap her inside making it impossible for her to warn John and Abe. She decided that the safest route was to quickly search the nearby cafes and makeshift food stands to see if John was still in the crowd.

She pushed her way through the mobs of people, stood in the gutters, and balanced precariously on curbsides in an attempt to see him. Although, she saw the many different hues of African skin, she had not spotted even one white person.

She looked at her watch and then looked down at her feet dejectedly. It was three minutes before 11:00 and it was clear that in his anxiousness to complete the deal, John had gone in a few minutes early. She knew that she couldn't contact the police or the military. She couldn't even contact their friends without also endangering their lives. Even the gun she had would not be of much use against the smuggler and the police chief. She fell to her knees and started crying uncontrollably.

_I failed_, she thought. _And John will suffer…is suffering because of it._ She bent her chest over her knees as her sobs began to rack her body. A crowd had gathered around her, curious as to whether she was ill. However, Kem didn't notice them or hear their questions because she suddenly knew what she had to do.

In a few seconds, she knew that she would have to calm herself, get up, cross the street, and join the man that she loved in order to share his fate.


End file.
